


God Damned Masks

by DevilOfWire



Series: DevilOfWire's Kinktober 2020 [4]
Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Marvel, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Sex, Asphyxiation, Bottom Peter Parker, Breathplay, Established Relationship, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Humor, Kinktober 2020, Latex, Leather, M/M, One Shot, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut, Spandex, Sweat, Top Wade Wilson, Wet & Messy, erotic asphyxiation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-04
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:56:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26818453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DevilOfWire/pseuds/DevilOfWire
Summary: 4. Incest| Breathplay | Leather/Latex (Spandex)Peter finds a full-body spandex suit is already sweaty and uncomfortable as is, so the less time out of it, the better.Too bad his insane mercenary boyfriend not only insists he dirty one of his precious suits, but also that be as hard to breathe while still staying conscious… Well, mostly conscious, anyway.
Relationships: Peter Parker/Wade Wilson
Series: DevilOfWire's Kinktober 2020 [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1950421
Comments: 2
Kudos: 88
Collections: Kinktober 2020





	God Damned Masks

**Author's Note:**

> **IF YOU ARE UNDER 18 DO _NOT_ READ.**
> 
> Some more Spideypool because I must admit, I find them both rather cute, and of course the hypothetical relationship! ^^

Just ten minutes ago, Peter had been putting his foot down, literally. Stomping like a horse hell-bent on staying right where it was, he shook his head vigorously.

First was the initial argument lasting roughly a minute:

“No, hell no,” he’d said. “I am not putting on that damn latex suit, not for any reason other than work.”

“Awwwwww,” an unfortunately familiar whine came, “but whyyyyy?”

“Because it’s fucking hot and sweaty and uncomfortable!”

“But... isn’t that the  _ best part?” _

“No! Oh my God, something really is wrong with you, isn’t there?!” Peter groaned, slumping down on the couch. “God, if I didn’t move in with you, I would kick you right out my window, swear to God...”

“Peter.”

“What?”

“Please? Pretty please? Pleeease? Come on, just try it on! Just for a minute! It’s such a hot day and you’re still wearing a shirt and shorts, wouldn’t it be better? Oh, come on!”

It took about two entire, uninterrupted minutes of  _ that, _ that annoying, insufferable begging, for Peter to finally crack.

“Okay!” he yelled, snapping up his spidey suit with a rage like never before—maybe the heat was getting to him, in a way. “I’ll put on the fucking costume! But we’re not doing anything weird!”

It took him a minute to put on the costume, slower than he would have liked, but the thing kept sticking to his skin, the air humid and suffocating, because apparently it still was cool enough to keep the AC off, and fans were over-rated or something.

Peter knew well it was just a ploy to get him into this suit, but then he begins to wonder just how long Wade had been waiting for the first really hot day of the year, and he didn’t want to think too much about that.

Peter came back and was a little surprised to find Wade, also, now wearing his own uncomfortable suit, made of leather rather than latex. Doubly uncomfortable.

He showed off to his boyfriend who was smiling like the crazed mercenary he was, and then turned right back to the bathroom to peel it off already.

But instead, a hand grabbed his wrist, and then that begging started up again.

Peter shook his head fervently, repeating “no” over “please”s just as persistent for an entire minute. Finally, spirit truly broken, he flung himself onto the couch and just lay there with his eyes closed in exhaustion.

“Oh, well... maybe this will actually work pretty well.”

Peter didn’t even have the energy nor care to ask what in the world that meant, but as he felt the entire couch shift and a weight that could only be a fully-grown man kneeling between his legs, his eyes snapped open.

“Oh, you are not fucking me!” he cried, trying to push Wade away.

“Aw, come on, it’s been a while-”

“It’s been a day!”

“That’s a while for me! Anyway, I promise you you’ll enjoy this, just give me a chance!” he grinned, already running his hands down Peter’s shoulders and toward his chest.

Peter sighed, but gave up with a huff, his only act of defence being to cross his arms and not dare reciprocate.

Wade thought that that was alright, though. Because under his skilled hands more than familiar with the other’s body, he quickly found him puffing with more than just exasperation. The thin material of the spider-man costume made it almost as easy to see his hardening nipples as a plan t-shirt, and his cock was no different.

Their suits might look like one-piece ensembles, but really, a onesie is not the easiest thing to get into or out of, nor the most functional to repair, and so on.

So reaching into the nearly invisible seam of Peter’s elastic pants and finding his cock was effortless.

“Enjoying it so far?” Wade asked, beginning to pump Peter’s cock.

It was hard to read his expression in the mask, but his voice made it more than obvious, as it trembled and panted out, “Y-you’re... an idiot...”

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Wade chuckled, repositioning his wrist to give him a better angle under the tight confines of the suit. “See? And you get to just lie here and let me do things to you,” he laughed, lowering himself to Peter’s ear to tickle him another way.

Peter’s hands were now pressed against his sides, unable to act stoic anymore. Quite the opposite, as he wriggled and writhed all over the couch, heat building in his lower body under Wade’s confident fingers.

Then Wade reached his other hand down to whip out his own cock from his leather suit, finding his throbbing cock was getting him a little too hot for comfort.

It was just too much, watching the people’s hero, Spider-Man in one of his most iconic outfits, skin completely covered but for the flushed tip of his cockhead peeking from a slit in his suit, moaning and panting almost like he was in pain, rather than overwhelming pleasure.

And all covered in his own, even hotter Deadpool outfit, Wade adjusted his hips so he could press their cocks together, allowing him to take them both in one hand, jerking hard up and down. The subtle bumpy gripping texture of the leather on Wade’s hands only made the experience even stranger, but also more pleasurable.

It seemed to Peter that this was going to be quite the quick climax, and he more than enjoyed that mere spectacle. Despite the pleasure of those calloused fingers pushing into his sensitive flesh, the discomfort of the suit growing even hotter, and subsequently sweatier, almost out did it. But, hey, at least he wouldn’t be here for much longer!

Is what he thought.

But clearly, Wade thought differently.

Because with a snicker, just as Peter’s moans were reaching a literal climax, and the man thrusting into his hand desperately chasing that peak that would free him of this truly stupid sex act, Wade stops.

Immediately, however, his cum-smeared hand and the other, as well, are brought to Peter’s legs, pushing them apart, and then grabbing in the middle, right where his taint was-

And then, and then he tears Peter’s precious suit right in half at the ass.

“What the fuck?! Hey, that’s my sui-”

“Should get one that doesn’t tear so easily,” Wade dismissed, only ripping it further, a deafening noise in the quiet of the house. “Don’t worry, you can just get it repaired, right? Hm, then again, I don’t know how you’d go about describing what exactly caused a tear like this... Maybe you should just throw it away...”

“Wade!” Peter roared, “I’m going to kill you, I swear!”

“I’d love to see you try,” he grinned back.

And then thrusted his cock right inside of Peter’s hole, all the way, with only lube, no stretching.

To say it hurt would be an almost criminal understatement.

It made Peter gasp in shock, and then let out a loud cry of pain as his mind finally caught up.

Except that loud cry is quickly cut short, as a hand closes over his mouth.

“Sorry,” said a deep, changed voice, “you know me. Sometimes I just can’t help myself.”

Peter tried to snap back, but it was only muffled gibberish under the leather hand. And then a well-placed thrust rendered him entirely unable to even entertain the idea of English, let alone complaining in it.

Another few thrusts in, and his eyes were squeezed shut, rolled back in his skull with the whole-body sensation consuming him.

Oh, yes... this was why he put up with an annoying, morally grey superhero practically 24/7. Because he fucked like an animal, making Peter feel pleasures he didn’t even know were possible before Wade convinced him in a similar begging way, the very first time.

Suddenly, Peter felt cool air on his lips once more, and gasped in breath, moaning loud and clear. He could breathe under Wade’s hand, of course, but just like everything else was quickly becoming, it was hot and muggy.

But maybe he shouldn’t really complain so much, because then he finds that, actually, he couldn’t breathe.

At least, not as well.

His eyes snapped open, and through the fabric of the mask made sheer up so close, he saw Wade’s hand gripping his neck, pushing in slightly to restrict his airways.

“If you really don’t like it, just shake your head.”

Peter should. But for some reason, he didn’t.

So Wade started fucking him again, meeting his hips to the other’s just like a mindless beast, with nearly super-human strength and speed, pressing Peter completely into the cushions below.

His hand around the other’s throat, both still fully in their costumes but for some rips and slits, the flesh of their cocks and Peter’s quickly reddening ass standing out against the vibrant reds.

And that brings us to the present, where Peter’s head is swimming as his oxygen supply is cut off, blood rushing loudly with every pounding heartbeat as he was fucked into oblivion.

Wondering distantly, how he could go from step 1—standing in the kitchen when Wade brought in his suit and asked him to try it on with that same old, stupid voice—all the way to here—getting strangled and getting off on it, both of them sweating and panting, or at least, trying to, in their own costumes that the entire world knew them by—all in a manner of ten entire minutes.

What can he say? Wade’s a very persuasive guy.

Especially now, as it becomes increasingly hard to think, not only with the immense pleasure of being filled with a thick cock and fucked like a sex doll, but also with the hand still pressing against his trachea, rendering him entirely unable to draw a breath.

And as his lungs quickly run out of oxygen with this strenuous “exercise”, he finds himself truly breathless.

And that’s both an exhilarating, and terrifying, feeling.

Like he’s high in the clouds, no other thing, or person, but him and Wade. Nothing else in the world but Wade fucking him into the couch, leather against latex as even the heat and sweat on his body seemed to melt away. All that pain and discomfort became increasingly distant thoughts as his mind raced at the oxygen deprivation, until he could barely think at all.

Until the only thing he could really feel was just pleasure, pleasure, overwhelming pleasure.

When Peter cums seconds later, it’s like no orgasm ever before. Like it consumes him entirely, body, soul, and mind, as even the hand around his neck, and the hard cock thrusting into him, become too much for him to remember, either. Then it’s just that bliss, white nothingness that marks a climax, but with it being the only thing he could think of anymore, it was even more intense than ever.

That feeling lasts only for a couple seconds, but when he’s finally able to gasp in air—another head rush coming as his body is filled with that precious oxygen it had been deprived of for the last minute—he thinks it might have been worth it, for those two seconds alone.

Peter looks down, seeing that Wade’s fingers are lightly touching his neck, and past that, white spurts of semen cover the chest of his suit. He shifts his legs positively aching from being propped up against the side of the couch for so long, and can feel something warm and liquid between his legs. Wade’s hard cock is still inside of him, but so is his seed from his own orgasm.

Sick fuck got off on nearly choking Peter to the brink of unconsciousness, huh?

Peter merely rolls his eyes, having accepted the man and all his very odd, highly questionable kinks a long time ago.

“Well,” Wade huffs, not having been strangled, sure, but he did just keep up the fastest, hardest pace he ever has, on par with Olympian routines, he thinks, “how was that? Did you like the choking part, or was that maybe too much?”

Peter pants hard, the cold sweat and after bliss on his body beginning to dissipate, and leave him just as boiling as before. “I think I’m already choking enough in this damn suit, and now I not only have to get it repaired, but dry-cleaned.”

“Haha,” Wade says, sitting up and scratching his head, “sorry about that-”

“But yes,” Peter smiles lightly, just barely noticeable through the obscuring mask, “the choking was... interesting.”

Then Peter reached up, a single strand of silk and the tiniest pull allowing him to pull the entire weight of Wade’s head down, ear against his mouth.

“I think I wanna try it again, maybe.”

Wade’s eyes open in shock and awe, at first unsure what to make of that.

But his cock, still buried inside of Peter’s ass, knows exactly how it feels about that.

Heat stroke was a definite possibility at this point, but sometimes, you just had to take a risk, you know?

**Author's Note:**

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